


Chiaroscuro

by Anonymous



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Friendship, No Plot/Plotless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-26 10:54:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2649350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The deepest meaning in tennis is that there isn't one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chiaroscuro

 

 

She shrugged off her bulky tennis bag, unidentifiable bulging bumps protruding from inside, and unzipped it. Taking out what looked like a newly bought racket, Hanai asked him, “So, do you wanna play?”

 

Seiichi watched her fingers absentmindedly tug at the center strings. Behind him, looming like a guard dog on duty, Genichirou said, skillfully kind, “I apologize, but the games are over. Your tardiness led to a forfeit, therefore a loss. Since we were the last ones here, we merely wanted to relay your teammates had left.” 

 

He didn’t even think she would show up. The Eastern Japan mixed tennis tournament for better school relations had gone without a hitch, and Seiichi and he had only been in contact with rowdy members of different rival teams for a few minutes before they were whisked away by the games. Genichirou played a girl from Hyotei who was good at keeping him on his toes, but she had lost motivation halfway through when she realized winning the game wouldn’t earn anything besides recognition, which apparently wasn't enough. Seiichi’s match was supposed to be with a girl from Seigaku. The umpire waited ten minutes before he announced her disqualification.

 

“No, I know,” she said, shaking her head. Tiny loose strands poked out behind her ears. “I mean, like, for fun.”

 

“For fun? We’re about to go home.” Genichirou stared at her. Then he stared at his captain.

 

It was almost ethereal, seeing Seiichi light up so visibly. He wasn’t smiling, but it was obvious he was amused. Still, it took a lot for a person to rise a glow from him. Genichirou pretended to see his thought process roll back to memories robotically: Fun. A blinding white cap. Fun. A young boy. _Fun_. 

 

A door.

 

Genichirou knew the outcome before Seiichi had the time to say, “Why not?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Seiichi won six to nothing. 

 

The second after he scored the winning point, Hanai smothered a yawn with the back of her palm. Her ponytail had finally come undone, uneven whips of dark brown curling her shoulders. The setting sun was a quiet red flicker through pink clouds, so her fading shadow devoured the net and the tip of Seiichi’s shoes.

 

She reached out to shake his hand and said, “Good game, Child of God-san.”

 

They shook, and she headed for her belongings on the bench where Genichirou sat, a bit irritable. The game had lasted a few minutes too long, even if the win was expected. She had challenged Yukimura Seiichi, after all. But now they were going to be late catching the train. Renji would go off on their behinds for this.

 

And then—this was the dreamlike part of it all, as it wasn’t very realistic, even though it happened right in front of him—Seiichi, the Demigod of Rikkai, grabbed Hanai’s arm. Tightly. The recognizable blue and white jacket she wore crinkled underneath his touch. His clear eyes were alert, _aware_ , either looking at her or inside her or through her.

 

Genichirou was already standing. “Yukimura…?”

 

He let go, his gaze unlocking, and this Seiichi—this wild, cautious one—melted away. He was Yukimura again. Or maybe that had been the real Seiichi, brusque and abrupt, hidden all along. Maybe that was what he pushed beside when replaced with the leader, the champion. Genichirou did not understand anything. _That_ Seiichi, he was unaccustomed. 

 

The girl was refocusing on zipping back her bag into place. She wasn't in a hurry, just simply quick in evading confrontation. It was a a relief she didn’t linger, because then Genichirou wouldn’t know what to say. Sorry his captain beat you, no mercy shown? Sorry he had a five-second breakdown?

 

“Sanada.” This was Seiichi’s captain voice, and Genichirou didn’t like it as much as he liked normal Seiichi’s. Hanai from Seigaku was gone, and all that clued in on her even being there was a tiny black hair tie laying on the court ground. “Play me.”

 

“What?”

 

“If there’s nothing wrong with me today," he reasoned, scuffing his soles to kick the forgotten hair accessory from the court, "then there’s something wrong her.”

 

 

Later, after a whooping 5-3, Seiichi explained to both Renji (who _had_ lectured them for ten minutes on the basic courtesies and manners of letting people wait for them two hours after promised) and Genichirou on the train ride home why the game with the Seigaku girl had unsettled him so much.

 

“So the Yips didn’t work?” asked Renji, most likely mentally filing information into different compartments in his mind. According to him, Hanai Ran was a girl a year younger than them who had been freshly admitted as a regular to the Seigaku girl’s tennis team, simply for the fact that there was another empty slot. There was nothing remarkable about her tennis, and she was not a genius prodigy. She did not have any special moves. Renji also said some things concerning her blood type, star sign, and three measurements, but Genichirou was paying attention to Seiichi.

 

“It worked,” he replied easily. He was calm and familiar again, but Genichirou couldn’t forget the image of those eyes from before. “I’m saying it didn’t work on her.”

 

Genichirou took the liberty to ask, “Why?”

 

“Who knows?” answered Seiichi, except Genichirou knew him better, so he was probably working around explanations and deductions. He tilted his head towards the window, watching the people and the buildings pass by in a blur of lights and monotony. He smiled a little strangely. “But you know what, Sanada?”

 

“What is it?”

 

Seiichi said, “I had fun.”

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i secretly rly love oc girls tennis teams haha so this is something that was gonna be like, ooh! cool girls playing tennis! but it turned out to be woah! boys observing cool girls playing tennis! so thats a lil weird / also it has no meaning whatsoever, just self-satisfactory
> 
> this file on my comp is saved as ‘tennis dorks’


End file.
